Mint and Honey Daquiri
by WaddleBuff
Summary: As a lifeguard in one of the city's most luxurious hotels, Malcolm thought he'd seen his fill of sexy broads in skimpy two-pieces. But then he meets Sona Buvelle, a woman who knows the score, a woman who draws him in without a single word. [Heavy Smut]
1. Chapter 1

_**An entry from Wet Straps: The League of Legends Swimsuit Collection**_

* * *

Malcolm seldom stared during his shifts.

It should have been tough not to; the temptation was always there. Being a lifeguard of the main pool situated on the top floor of the city's most expensive five-star hotel usually meant a _lot_ of high-class ass strutting about, hour in and hour out. And the fact that his eyes were always hidden behind the opaque azure of his sunglasses ensured that he would get away with it.

But even so, Malcolm seldom stared.

Call it professional courtesy. Malcolm called it boredom.

He'd had his fair share of pristine views during his time at the hotel. Hell, he'd partaken in more...hands-on appreciation of said views numerous times during afterhours; he'd had enough bikini bods to last a lifetime.

Needless to say, the pretty young thing that captured his attention that day was anything but the typical tanned, pampered, Instagram-famous broad.

So in the shade of his lifeguard perch's umbrella, Malcolm stared.

And regardless of her exotic looks, it would have been difficult to ignore a woman who stared back.

Hard.

From the moment Malcolm's eyes had casually glanced over once he had taken notice of her, this mystery woman's eyes had locked themselves onto him. Whether she was tanning on a lawn chair on the opposite side of the pool, or getting a daiquiri from the bar, or floating around on the lazy river, her cool blue eyes drifted over to him.

It was obvious she was checking him out, prompting him to do the courtesy of returning the favor.

Luckily for him, there was a lot for him to check out. Enough to get him a little too hot under that shade, and making him regularly check his G-Shock to see if it was close to the end of his shift or not. The multitude of other people, the kids running around when they weren't allowed to, the groups of titillating upper class sorority girls playing chicken in the center of the pool, none of them mattered anymore. It was just him and this woman.

She was affluent, that was obvious. Not only due to the fact that she could even swim in this pool, but all of the jewelry that adorned her pale skin. Gold anklets, gold bracelets, a gold armlet, a gold band wrapped around her thigh. The wealth translated itself into more than jewelry; she carried herself with all the poise of a noble, confidently showing off soft curves that obviously didn't see much sun.

She had the body of a Greek statue. Cliche, but it was all Malcolm could liken it to, especially when her bikini left practically nothing of this woman's qualities to the imagination. Plump thighs, legs that go on for miles, hips that flared out wide, an ass that jiggled like fluffy pudding with every strut, breasts that hung heavy and mature.

She was no girl, nothing like the majority of the young tail that pranced around here with their rich nest egg boyfriends. No, she was a woman.

She was probably around his age. Late 20s to early 30s, at least. But the more Malcolm stared, the harder it was to tell just how old she was.

He was pretty sure she wasn't a teenager; that body of hers was something cultivated by age and experience, not just puberty. But then again, she was most definitely at least half Asian, and in his experience, trying to determine age with Asian women was a crapshoot. And there were details other than her ethnicity that threw him off.

Her face was demure and almost innocent, a sinful compliment to those eyes and those curves. The cute little bows on her otherwise classy and mature bikini, nestled atop the uppermost curve of her ample, ample breasts. Her hair, done up in twintails with large golden clasps, and dyed a soft, chilled aquamarine. And to top it all off, there was a ribbon tied around her neck, tight with a little bow, a choker.

She was a mystery to Malcolm, a girl, a woman, he couldn't read. Usually just from the first impression, he could tell what a woman was about, who they were. Here, with this woman, he had no clue. Whether she was younger than him or older, whether she was a career woman or a product of her daddy's nest egg.

But the more Malcolm stared and stared, taking note of how she never really swam in the pool, never went in deeper than her waist, there were two things that were certain:

1\. He wanted her. He wanted his mouth, his hands, the erection that bulged in his swimming trunks on her skin, inside of her heat. She might turn out to be a pompous bitch, but he's fucked his fair share of them, and he wasn't going to turn down this glorious piece of ass if she turned out to be another.

2\. She wanted _him_. That fact just made itself even more obvious with the way she made her staring at him so _projected_ , at how her eyes flickered up to his perch as if to check if he was still looking at her. Those cool blue eyes running up and down his tanned skin, sizing him up as much as he was doing the same to her.

It was only a matter of time until someone made a move. Malcolm waited a little longer, Watching her languid pacing back to the bar for another daiquiri. Along the way she "accidentally" dropped the towel she carried around on her forearm. Once again her cool gaze drifted behind her shoulder, expectant for his eyes on her. Then, she bent down, jutting out the full cheeks of her plump, plump ass for his eyes to ravish, taking her sweet time to pick up the towel. She stood back up again, and gave another look to Malcolm. She grinned, and brought a hand to readjust her bikini bottom, letting it snap into place with a soft jiggle.

The show continued when she came back to her seat. After setting down the drink, she took her time spreading herself out onto the poolside chair, stretching out lazily like a cat, the creaminess of her skin winking enticingly in the sun. Then, satisfied, the woman began to drink-no, the better word here is _savor_ her daquiri. She sipped slowly, and made sure that her intent wasn't just enjoying the liquor; her real treat was how the soft maneuvering of her mouth made Malcolm sweat harder in his seat, tied him harder around her finger.

Malcolm took off his shades then, letting her know for certain he was looking, he was staring, he was wanting. As a reward, the woman upped the ante, letting her lips wrap around her straw ever-so-slowly, her eyes peeking over the precipice of her glass with a gaze that made him hard. With their gazes locked, she flicked her tongue out from between her lips, running it along the honeydew green of her straw, before pursing her mouth, and sucking. Malcolm salivated.

Malcolm was not a patient man. And when the woman pulled the straw from its glass, letting drops of daquiri softl drip into the luscious valley of her breasts, he let her know that this game of covert gazes over the shimmer of chlorine had taken long enough.

If she wanted him to make a move, he was going to make it.

He climbed down from his lifeguard perch, making sure her eyes were still on him. He reached over for the walkie-talkie slung around the seat, brought it to his mouth, and with a click told a coworker to cover his shift. The woman obviously couldn't hear what he was saying, but he got the message across. He didn't let the coworker finish his very vocal complaints before he slung the walkie-talkie back onto his perch.

Malcolm kept standing there, looking at the woman as she continued sipping on her daiquiri. It was her move now, they both knew it.

So, she smiled, placed her daiquiri on the little table next to her chair, and stood. Malcolm didn't hide the way his eyes appreciated the delicious shudder of her curves from the impact of her heels on the poolside floor. And she didn't hide the fact that she reveled in his attention.

Then, as soon as she slipped into her platform shoes, the woman turned, giving him a smoldering look over her shoulder, and strutted away to the far corner of the pool. Malcolm folllowed.

He found himself in front of the public restrooms, a line of a dozen or so single-occupancy lavaratories with showers placed beside each door.

The woman stood in front of the door farthest from the pool.

She had her hands clasped behind her back, coyly, while her lips curled in a smirk that beckoned for Malcolm more effective than any crook of a finger, mischievously.

A short moment lasted were they stared at each other one last time, probably the last time before the groping and roaming of their eyes were replaced with hands. Then, the woman turned the handle to the door of the restroom, and, giving Malcolm one last look, slipped inside.

Malcolm strode over before the door could click shut.


	2. Chapter 2

Her name was Sona.

That was the first thing uttered in that tight little restroom, right when Malcolm brought the door shut behind him. And it was the last before Sona mouth was on his.

Turns out, her lips tasted sweeter than they looked. A tart saccharine of her lip gloss swirled onto his mouth before it was drowned by the overwhelming scent of her hair. It took less than two recurring kisses before he started to reciprocate in full force, his hands finally laying themselves on her skin, fingers digging into the softness of her back.

His tongue was in her mouth, and it tasted even better; the remnants of her daiquiri were strong on her tongue, honey and mint. She would moan through her nose, and that made his hands more eager. Her own were on his chest, he could feel her fingers appreciating the curls of hair that sprouted across his pecs. Her breasts pressed against him all the same, and he knew it was intentional. Just as intentional as the knee that she rose up to stroke him through his swimmming trunks.

Her tongue was just as experienced as his as she lustfully parried and slipped into his mouth, slipping saliva between them in hot sticky exchanges, mouth opening and closing on his with expert timing lest the dribble spill out onto their necks.

Sona knew the score.

And that meant Malcolm didn't need to hold back.

His hands stopped groping around the softness of the small of her back, slipping down and unabashedly _clutching_ her ass cheeks. The soft, pampered flesh spilled through his fingers, soft and warm and abundant. She squealed. Malcolm relenquished his grip, raising his hands above her flesh a few inches, then,

 _Smack!_

Brought them back down again, letting the hot flesh fill his palms and overflow. She purred.

Malcolm growled.

With his hands on her ass, he flipped them around, pushing her against the wall adjacent to the door. With mouths still connected, Malcolm forced her legs apart, pushing down the knee at his groin, and raised her crotch into his and started grinding.

Sona let out an open-mouthed moan, unable to stop the drool from her tongue to spill down her chin, staining his beard. The hands at her chest were forced around his neck and his head. Her fingers ran through his hair, reveling in the hold as she pulled his head into hers, sucking on his tongue as Malcolm grunted with every roll of his hips.

Precum started to stain the netting of his trunks, his cock _pulsing_ with arousal. In the span of a few minutes and he was already ready to rut this woman, and he was positive that if he slipped his fingers into that skimpy bikini bottom of hers, he'd feel that she was ready too.

His hands parted ways then; one hand kept supporting her, clutching her asscheek while her forearm cradled the rest of her rump, the other hand smoothing up her side, brisking against her breast before finding a firm grip below the base of her neck. Sona responded with one of her hands smoothing down the packed muscle of his front, tantalizing fingers sparking sensation with every stroke.

Malcolm separated from her lips, panting. He took one look at her eyes, at how her full lips parted, how a clear string of saliva lifted softly from the center of her mouth like gossamer, before he dove in again, tongue-first between her teeth. He swirled between her cheeks, reveling in how Sona kept squeaking, how her desperate hands pulled at his hair now, breathing in deep through his nose as their mouths fucked, tongues pulling and slipping, cheeks sucking.

He separated again. The circumference of Sona's mouth was shiny with spittle, and her eyes were hazy and dark with lust. It was obvious she wasn't quite done yet with his lips, but he wanted to do more with this woman than just make out with her until he was dizzy.

His mouth traveled down her jaw before wisping against her neck. He felt the silky material of her choker and was tempted to pull it off, but he thought against it. He bit through it, letting her know that from this point onwards, she was his until he said otherwise. Sona's receptive mewl was a sign of her submission.

Her skin smelled as sweet as her hair. There was a slight tang of her sweat, and his tongue tumbled from his lips to taste it. He lingered on her collarbone, sucking on it as if it were candy. He let his teeth sink a millimeter or two into the flesh there for added measure.

The hand at her neck quickly found its way to her front, eagerly capturing her breast. The softness of her ass _paled_ in comparison to what that hand found, the soft pliable flesh of her chest overwhelming the size of his hands, spilling out not only between his fingers, but around his palm. Malcolm fondled Sona's breast and ass in awe, simultaneously groping, squeezing, squishing. Her response was more mewling, her own hands keeping his head firmly pressed against her skin as his progress downwards halted, his mouth still clamped onto her collarbone.

Malcolm groaned. Another throb had pulsed through his cock, more ensuing at the pure carnal satisfaction of his hands finally indulging in this woman's impossible curves. His grinds had slowed considerably. He was still eager for the friction between the fabrics between their groins, still thirsty for the heat of her core, but the way things were going, he was going to cum where he stood, swimming trunks and all.

And he knew his cum would be a waste if it wasn't slathered on this stranger's body.

As if she could read his mind, Sona's hands found his shoulders, and pushed. Reluctantly Malcolm complied, peeling off of her, feeling sweat of his skin already sticking with the sweat of hers. Slowly, he let her down off the wall, letting her quaking legs find their balance. Her anklets jingled a bit once she stood on both feet, panting.

Malcolm couldn't keep his eyes off her breasts, the way they heaved. Droplets of sweat trailed down her skin, and he found his eyes following them. From her smooth arms, to the bountiful folds of her sides, to the shiny skin of her thighs. Sona let him stare, let him have his fill, until she caught her breath, and walked away.

She walked backwards, leading Macolm's gaze with an invisible leash. Her face wore an expression of pure desire, one that she had trouble hiding outside at the pool. This was the endgame that she was going for, and she was going to enjoy it to the fullest.

Malcolm bit his lip at the sight; other than the sunlight streaming in through foot-tall openings near the roof, the restroom had only a few bulbs to illuminate everything, tungsten orange in tone. The combined light painted Sona's skin, bringing to light every soft curvature, every squeezable, fleshy grip for Malcolm's hands, accentuating twinkling sweat that sprung off the skin that juttered with every backwards step she took.

Finally, her progress backwards stopped once she hit the sink. There, Sona leaned back, giving Malcolm more of a prolonged show. Her hand moved to action when she was satisfied that she held his full attention. Her bracelets twinkled, a drop of sunlight twinkling from its circumference when she brought her finger to her belly. There, her nail drew circles around her bellybutton, catching some moisture from her sweat before the finger drew more curlicues down, down, down, and right before those lines could reach her crotch, she took her finger off her skin.

She knew he still watched where those fingers went, watching with the utmost amusement when his eyes followed, oh-so-obediently, as she brought the finger to the sidetie of her bikini bottom, bringing a thumb to kiss it firmly with the string in between, and pulled.

The fabric lilted off her skin, revealing her waxed pussy, wet and wanting. Sona spread her legs a bit to let the weight of gravity peel the bikini bottom off completely. Several visible strings of her arousal, her want for Malcolm's dick bridged her smooth snatch to the fabric before finally separating like webbing once the bikini bottom finally fell to the floor, leaving Sona completely bottomless, wet, and ready.

The hand that Sona had used to draw fingers on her belly immediately found itself on her pussy, and her fingers rubbed the lips of her wanting snatch, her upper lips letting out a whimpering moan. She rested more of her weight on the sink, fully intent on pleasuring herself in front of Malcolm before her teasing eyes suddenly shot open, her entire weight lifted effortlessly by tanned arms, the cold of the restroom mirror kissing her shoulder blades, and the feeling of scruffy facial hair tickling her thighs.

In seconds flat, and Malcolm was on his knees. Sona had expected him to wait a bit longer, let her put up more of a show, but it was now, with his tongue already slathering her exposed pussy, sloppily and greedily soaking up all of her sticky arousal that she learned: Malcolm was not a patient man.

Sona's arms had to grip the mirror behind her as she felt her clit suddenly being sucked to oblivion, felt a tongue pushing greedily inside as a nose eagerly huffed the aroma of her crotch. She laughed, in pure bliss at being manhandled this way, at how Malcolm's large hand incessantly groped her ass while he ate her out, while he effortless brought her to an orgasm.

Her first climax wasn't due to technique; Malcolm may as well have been a pubescent high school junior, with the way he handled his mouth between her thighs. No, it was mostly due to the excitement of it all. Just her name exchanged between them no more than ten or so minutes earlier, and now this lifeguard she had only just met that day was between her legs, devouring her cunt like it was Thanksgiving.

Her toes curled, hiccuping moans choked themselves out of her throat. Malcolm kept at it, his tongue slicking up and down her folds, delving between them, in and out, spongy and hot and velvet. His facial hair added another layer of sensation, as its frizzled texture smothered her crotch while growing increasingly-damp in the process. She tensed up again, cumming with her hands white-knuckle on the mirror fixture behind her, cursing out curses because she still didn't even know Malcolm's name.

A third orgasm, juices spilling onto the tiled floor, and Malcolm resurfaced, hands moving to her hips as he nestled himself between her legs. Sona was still busy panting, shuddering from the string of orgasms to stop him from descending upon her lips. She let out an elongated groan, appreciative that Malcolm's kisses were less ravishing, breathless smacks and a more languid dance of his tongue tumbling and caressing against hers. Her hands found his hair again, and their mouths made love.

She loved how his hands, so large and rough, felt as silky as his tongue when they needed to be, like now, as his palms smoothed up and down the skin of her arms, one hand cupping the gold armlet on her left, thumb rubbing the bare skin around it.

Then, her eyes shot open again as she felt something, pulsing, hot, and _big_ press up against her stomach.

She didn't need to look down to know that it was his cock.

Their tongues and mouths unclasped wetly, and they shared a look for a moment. Malcolm readjusted his grip to her hips, those same caressing thumbs that brought her down from the numbing euphoria of orgasm calming her from any doubts of letting a stranger fuck her raw in a public restroom.

Sona smiled at the thought. He was more of a gentleman than she thought. Not in words, but in the subtlelest of ways, and in the language that she preferred to partake in whenever the strains of life overwhelmed her: the language of sex.

The smile was the approval Malcolm needed, and he slipped one hand off her skin to grip the base of his cock. He pushed in, making Sona's legs spread wider until Malcolm was nestled in, the head of his prick aimed for the tight pinkness that continued to drip hot nectar onto the tile below the sink.

Malcolm looked up at her one last time at her. He didn't have any Trojans on him, and as eager as Sona was acting, he wanted to make sure she didn't care. He suddenly felt her heels digging into his back, pushing him into her further, the hands behind his head doing the same, bringing him close enough for her tongue to lick his adam's apple, and the scent of her hair to embrace his nostrils.

That was the answer he wanted.

From the moment his cockhead kissed the slickness of Sona's cunt, Malcolm knew that it was going to be a struggle not to reach his end, then and there. With a stable grip on his prick's base, he pushed onward, groaning in a shudder as he felt her folds suck him in, slickly pulsing around him as inch by inch, he hilted himself.

Sona was in no better condition, shuddering into Malcolm's body as he filled her, stretching her out in the most satisfying of ways. Her forehead kissed his chest as she looked down, watching her snatch swallow him whole.

Normally, Malcolm would have stopped halfway or so, ask if she was doing alright. But before he knew it, he was inside of her completely, base to urethra, pulsing inside of her, raw.

He breathed hard, sweat on his brow. Both his hands were on her hips now, the tips of his fingers behind her, digging into the curve of her ass. Sona looked up at him, and with a bite of her lip, urged her hips back, providing as much movement as she could while sitting on top of the porcelain of the restroom sink.

Malcolm understood the message, and with a backwards pull of his own hips, began.

Just like the entire affair at large, the sex escalated quickly. Just a few pulls and pushes, a couple times of dragging out his cock before plunging back into Sona's tight heat, and soon Malcolm had established a rhythm. Groans spilled from his lips as much as they did from Sona's. His hands dug deep into Sona's meaty hips, thumbs entrenching themselves into the indents dipping above the curvature of her ass. Her inner heat wrapped around him, pulsing and stroking him like a hot fleshy glove.

He couldn't stop from speeding up his thrusts, his hands shifting from her hips to her ass as he pulled her _into_ him, making sure that her hips smacked into his own with every single thrust. The rhythm grew faster. He didn't bother pulling out halfway, he just wanted to be inside Sona as much as he could.

He loved the feeling of her thighs closing around him, the gold band around her left thigh digging into his hips. Naturally, their mouths found each other, sharing the sloppiest kisses yet, saliva and spittle foaming and spilling between them as their groans echoed and vibrated between their lips.

Sona's hands dug into Malcolm's broad shoulders, trying her best to bring him as close as he could possibly be. Their bodies stuck together as tightly as the fabric of Sona's bikini top clung to her breasts. The noise they made triplicated inside the restroom, and continued to escalate despite the large openings outside.

Moans, the smacking of flesh, the jangle of jewelry, mixed together as the wordless fucking continued.

Malcolm was losing himself in this woman. Every single part of her drew him in, encouraged his thrusts to turn into drives. He closed his mouth over Sona's completely, disregarding her groans of protest once his tongue began to dominate her oral cavern completely, as if attempting to dive into her throat.

They didn't hear the slight cracks and fractures behind Sona's ass, nor would they have cared if they did.

Sona beat on Malcolm's shoulders, making him finally relinquish his stranglehold on her tongue, giving her the opportunity to pant wantonly as she clenched and brought her ankles together, anklets pressing into skin, another orgasm ripping through her.

She wailed, louder than ever as Malcolm pounded into her. The orgasm echoed itself with another that came directly after, Malcolm's teeth aiding in Sona's sensory overload by sinking into her shoulder.

Regardless, Malcolm kept going, digging into her, skin smashing hard against skin. One of Sona's platform shoes finally relinquished its grip in the onslaught, clacking to the floor as a particularly hard thrust rendered her legs to jelly.

Jelly or not, Sona was forced to stand.

In a daze after more consecutive climaxes, she found herself empty, looked down to see Malcolm's red prick outside of where it belonged, several strings of clearness connecting the pulsing beast to her folds. Malcolm didn't give her any time to process what he wanted. He let his hands made her do it instead.

Roughly, he turned her around, forcing her hands to grab onto the sink. By now, the sink was noticeably several inches below where it originally was, several white scrapes against the wall and a sprung leak evidence that this was their doing. But why would either of them care? Especially now, with Malcolm's cock sheathing itself deep, deep inside of Sona's needy pussy, his hands finding suitable resting places right above her ass.

Without a moment's respite, Malcolm began plowing her. With short quick grunts, he exerted more effort than before, watching eagerly at how Sona's ass jiggled with every thrust, feeling himself grow closer and closer to climax with every orgasm that rippled through her hot snatch.

Sweat poured down his chest, splattering onto the small of her back where her own sweat was beginning to pool and stream down to the floor. The rhythmic smacking of Malcolm's hips into her ass was accompanied by Sona's squeals, squeals that went unnoticed as she directed them into the sink.

If she looked up, she could see the state she was in. Sweating in a humid public restroom, being fucked hard from behind with an eager stranger. She saw the reflection once, gazed into her lost, wild eyes, and came.

It didn't take long for Malcolm to realize that his end was quickly approaching. By this point, his chest was pressed against Sona's back, his hands were clutching her swaying breasts, keeping them from smashing into the sink, palms feeling the pebbly texture of her nipples through the bikini fabric.

Forward and in and in and in, Malcolm sawed into her, hitting _just_ the right spot inside of her that had Sona hiccuping breathless groans as she kept cumming, kept dripping and dripping. It was during one of her orgasms that Malcolm's grip on Sona's chest tightened harder than ever as his mouth, open with his tongue pressed against the sweaty nape of her neck, spilled out pathetic groans as fire balled up in his loins, and shot out through his pulsing cock.

He made sure he was buried as deep as possible as his hips stopped moving and his breaths grew erratic. The first shot of cum was followed by several more in quick, rapid succession. Spunk spurted out of his cockhead, ropes of it filling up Sona's womb, barreling into her in piping hot viscidness. She mewled and grit her teeth at the sensation, cooling tight around the meat that stretched her, savoring every second of the spunk streaming in to fill her completely and fully.

Malcolm filled her, his eyes rolling in pure delirium at the sensation of this woman's soft, soft body pressed up around him, milking his balls of cum with her sweat on his tongue and the scent of her skin in his nose. It was a small eternity, but by the time his climax ended, Malcolm was breathless. He felt the creampie he just gave to her begin to spurt out, bubbling out of her and dripping in long, languid lines onto the restroom floor.

Out of courtesy, he peeled his weight off her back, and extracted himself with a grunt, watching as more cum spurted out of her, puddling and trailing on the floor. He lifted her up again onto the sink, wincing when he heard the scrape of porcelain as it sank lower, but confident that it could still hold as he let her catch her breath.

Sona leaned her head back against the mirror, closing her eyes as she breathed in deep. Absentmindedly, her fingers found her pussy, feeling the dollops of thick cream spilling out from her, cascading down into the sink. She smiled again. She got what she wanted. Then, she bit her lip, and felt a problem as the fingers around her pussy began to dig, and prod.

She hadn't gotten enough.

She opened her eyes, seeing Malcolm leaning against the restroom wall with his arms crossed and mouth open with heavy breaths.

Then, she looked down, and saw that he was still as hard as he was when they entered this place.

She looked up at his face again, a sly grin forming on her lips.

Malcolm reflected it.

They both knew the score, what needed to be done next.

Malcolm bent over, picking up his swimming trunks that he had discarded, doing the same courtesy for Sona's bikini bottom. He helped her down from the sink before wincing at just how much damage they'd done to it; it looked pretty much irreparable, several fractures lined its face, along with the main pipe for the sink poking out from the top, spilling water.

They shared a laugh as they put on their swimwear, eyes still dark. Then, as Sona put on the shoe she had kicked away during the sex, Malcolm was the first to speak.

"Your room?"

Three words total now. Sona smiled silently, nodded, and turned the knob. Adjusting her bikini bottoms one last time, making sure no more cum spilled from her folds, she once again led the way, and Malcolm followed.


	3. Chapter 3

Sona Buvelle was a concert pianist. She was world-renowned, a modern day prodigy who took the stage since the age of six.

Her adoptive mother was one of the major shareholders for Viacom, which ensured that Sona's upbringing was one of comfort, one of luxury. She dedicated herself wholeheartedly to her art, and spared little time for anything else.

This was all Malcolm could scrounge out of Sona during the elevator ride down two floors to her suite. Seeing how she was a minor celebrity, he had directed her to the service elevator; less eyes to recognize her, but more importantly, less eyes to notice the soft red hand prints on her ass cheeks and the small of her back.

With the brief explanation of who she was, it all made sense. Why she carried herself the way she did, why her skin was so unblemished and pale, why she would resort to fucking a stranger in a restroom for a weekend's worth of excitement.

This wasn't something Sona did often, but it was apparent that it wasn't the first time she'd resorted to this sort of stress relief. The fact was made even more apparent with how she handled his prick, how her pianist's fingers toggled and stroked him while her tongue cherished the feeling of his like it was a warm, wet fruit.

Malcolm grunted into her mouth, his hand squeezing her breast, his other supporting him behind him on her circular, king-size bed. It was a suite for at least two. More proof that this rendezvous wasn't a whim, but premeditated.

Just like the restroom upstairs, there were no words. Only the ones exchanged in the elevator; as soon as the door of the suite closed shut, Sona led him by hand to her bed and tugged down his trunks, letting it join her forlorn platform sandals.

He was already throbbing and eager, pre joining some remnants of his previous climax to dribble own her hands, slicking her fingers. Sona pulled away then, tongue slipping out from his lips in a soft slurp. She gave him that smile, sinfully demure. She took his hand off her chest, directing it to the bed, closing around it as if to tell him that he would need to be gripping the sheets for what would happen next.

A few seconds later, and Malcolm was, clenching with two fists on her bed as he let out a whispered " _Fuck…_ ".

Sona's lips were sweet, but they felt even sweeter around his cock. With her nimble fingers fondling his swollen nuts, Sona's mouth took his cock in long, long strokes. Her plump lips ran wet and hot over the veins of his prick, cleaning it of any proof of their previous romp in the restroom.

She began to suck him off in earnest, one of her dainty hands gripping his base as her cheeks hollowed out, concaving in hot slimy pressure that made Malcolm pulse more and more pre down her throat. She breathed through her nostrils in hot breaths that tickled his crotch, heat that almost matched the temperature of her tongue slithering over and over under the head of his prick.

In a second's notice, Malcolm's hands shot to her scalp as the hot pressure of her mouth got even _tighter._ It took him a few more downwards thrusts of Sona's head to realize that he wasn't just in her mouth anymore; she had taken him into her fully, several inches of his erection pulsing directly into her throat.

Malcolm didn't have much time to admire Sona's skill, how she effortlessly opened up her throat to him, accommodating him while squeezing him, milking him while her fingers continuously kept busy with his balls. Several telltale throbs made him curse, made his fingers in her hair grip tighter. She cooked around him, merciless. Sounds of Sona's efforts outmatched whatever vocal approval Malcolm had; wet slurps and the squelching of a fat cock continuously pushing into an eager, hungry throat echoed around the suite.

It wouldn't take long until the sensations of fiery wetness and that debaucherous melody would bring more telltale throbs, and the eventual unraveling of Malcolm's eager, rigid lust.

But ever the tease, after another throb that shot a squirt of precum straight into her gullet, Sona slowly, slowly, slowly pulled her head back, humming as she went along. She let Malcolm feel the vibrations of her departing wet throat until his cock exited. Her tongue greeted him one last time, wet lips dragging along every solitary inch of his meat in an extended goodbye kiss until they finally slipped wetly over his cockhead. Several strands of saliva and pre connecting their pink plumpness to his urethra as she pulled back completely, leaving him throbbing and bare with only the hot breaths from her used throat to clothe him.

She looked up at him, heaving through her mouth, eyes swirling dark. Malcolm looked back, and didn't know what to say. He was so close, and it was apparent she knew that too.

But as tempted as he was to shove himself past those lips once more, Malcolm held himself back. He loosened his grip on her hair when her hands gently grasped his wrists, silently telling him to relinquish his hold. Then, those hands went to his knees. A little pressure in opposite directions prompted him to spread his legs wider, allowing her to press up against him, lithely curving up into his body, snakelike.

Up his legs, up his thighs, until they went up all the way to his chest and shoulders, Sona rose off the ground, dragging her bountiful chest the whole way until they were face to face.

She smiled, and let her belly rub against the prick that desperately pulsed, pressed flat against it. Her breaths felt hotter here, against his nose than they did against his crotch. He could still smell the mint and the honey on her tongue.

She gave him a kiss. One quick peck before she pulled back. Her hands were off his skin now, and she raised her arms, directing those hands behind her neck. It happened in a second. The fingers grasping strings, the deft pull of her wrists. Then, with Sona smiling all the while, her breasts finally fell free of her bikini's restraints.

Malcolm could only gawk as Sona tossed the garment onto the floor. He knew her assets were large, he'd fondled them enough, groped them. But to see them finally uninhibited by the fabric of her swimsuit had his pulse racing. Large pale fruit, heavy with maturity and softness were accentuated her nipples, pink and about the circumference of a silver dollar, pointed slightly upwards, situated near the center of the downwards curve of her chest.

He stared at them for only a few moments, not given a chance to reach out and lose himself completely, before Sona dipped back down onto her knees. Her hand was on his cock again, and she looked up again at him, expectantly.

When his eyes met hers, she pressed herself forward, letting her pebbly nipples kiss the skin above his thighs, and smothered his hardness in the decadent heat of her breasts. Malcolm gasped at the sensation of her skin, at how it seemed to melt his arousal in a way that was completely different than the way her throat made him succumb.

And that awe merely turned into mind-numbing bliss once Sona's hands brought her breasts tightly together, effectively swallowing every _inch_ of his cock. With that, she started moving them up and down, causing delightful friction, the saliva and precum on the veiny intricacies of his meat slicking over her skin. Up and down, forward and back, Sona asphyxiated Malcolm's lust with her breasts, letting his lust throb and throb, letting its underside smooth against the skin of her chest.

Her own dainty hands couldn't constrain the soft flesh that spilled forth, pillowing meat bulging over her thumbs, around her pinky, through her fingers. She pressed them together best she could, letting that tactile rubbing of her impossibly-plushy sacks spark more and more sparks of bliss through Malcolm's nervous system.

Sona thrust with her upper back, rolling her shoulders, moving in tandem with her chest and her hands. Sometimes she'd squeeze _tight_ , letting only the smallest few inches of Malcolm's cock peek from the crevice of warmth before swallowing it up again, tousling it about inside.

A few minutes of this and soon Malcolm's hands were on her shoulders. He was getting close once more, and his breaths were getting desperate.

But he wouldn't finish like this. As heavenly as it felt, Sona knew it wouldn't be enough, and she wouldn't be satisfied if this was all it took to reach his end.

So she slipped off him, once again leaving Malcolm cold and bare. This time, he tried to fight back, his grip on her shoulders hard. It took a considerable amount of effort for Sona to wrench herself free, and with a jangle of her jewelry, she escaped, bouncing onto the bed.

Malcolm looked over at her, panting.

Then, Sona provided him the gateway to paradise, to his next climax: as she lay there, half-nude and topless, hair spread bout her in two long streams of dyed aquamarine, she bit her lip. Her forearms then pushed up against her breasts, squeezing them tightly together instead of sagging to her sides.

She shifted her thighs about, and Malcolm knew what she wanted.

He mounted her, knees on either side of her chest. His gripped his cock, and aimed for the valley Sona presented, pushing forward. He lodged his cockhead in between her breasts once more. He sighed in bliss, gritting his teeth, and repositioned his hands to either side of her breasts. Then, with one more thrust, he buried himself completely.

He shuddered, still in disbelief that he couldn't see a single solitary millimeter of his cock in between her knockers. He let himself savor the feeling, the heat that enclosed around him, the soft, unblemished skin that kissed his prick on all sides, wrapping around him like fleshy hot clouds.

Then, he looked at Sona's face. She had that smile that she gave him back at the pool, and he noticed her fingers were gripping tightly onto the sheets. He suddenly felt her knee reach up behind him and push on his ass, urging his hips forward.

Again, she was goading him on, and again, it was driving Malcolm to the breaking point.

And again, he obliged.

With his thick fingers digging into her milky mammaries, Malcolm began to thrust.

He hissed. It really was different from her pussy or her mouth. Both of those things, especially her throat, was slick and hot. Her breasts? Hot, but not slick. Thankfully that lack of lubrication didn't make it painful; the tender texture of her skin made up for it tenfold, making the friction pleasurable.

Addicting.

Before he knew it, the bed itself began to rock as he started earnestly fucking Sona's breasts. He panted, squeezing the knockers together, making them tighter as his cock dug in between them, meat squished in fiery silk. Sona was enjoying it too, looking up at him all the while. She grew wet at the roughness of Malcolm's treatment, letting out moans with how his crotch began to smack into her chest, rippling fleshy waves.

More groans and more telltale throbs, and soon the accumulated precum inside of her breasts lubed it up nice and slick. It didn't take long before finally, Malcolm felt himself reaching a fever pitch. He was turned on more by the sight of this woman below him now than the sensation of plowing her chest, how she moaned open-mouthed, arms spread apart, vulnerable for I'm to treat her as rough as he wanted.

" _Christ_ … _!_ "

A guttural cacophony of gibberish spat out of Malcolm's throat, and he came. He felt his spurts of semen shoot out into the softness of her chest, slathering it in viscid heat, pooling around his cock like white molasses. Her breasts swallowed up all of his cum like it swallowed up all of his cock; not a single drop of spunk showed itself as he continued to blow his load, not until he relinquished the valley a bit, letting the next ropes of his spunk bubble out in a small spring at the top juncture of her chest.

He poked out the head of his cock even further, cum spilling out from inside the tightness between Sona's mammaries like a creampie. Malcolm finished the last spurts of his climax like that, with the head of his meat aimed towards her chin.

A rope of cum shot out to stain her neck, leaving a thick white line that stained her choker. And the last rope that made Malcolm's chest twist stuck to Sona's cheek.

Breathless, Malcolm looked at his handiwork. He let go of her breasts, and like the opening of floodgates, his massive load spilled in thick rivers from the soft, soft valley of Sona's pale fleshy hills. Cum bubbled down to cover her collarbone, bubbled out and raced in lines down her belly. Sona herself panted to catch her own breath, the movement of her heaving chest, encouraging the egress of Malcolm's seed, while other large portions of white stickiness stuck to her breasts' inner curves.

Malcolm continued to kneel on top of her, letting Sona recover, letting her reach over to the cum on her cheek, swirl up the spunk into a sizeable dollop, and slip it between her lips.

He grew hard again when she did it again with the line of white on her neck, and again with the pooling seed near her breasts. He felt himself harden to full mast when she stopped gulping down his cum through her mouth, and instead scooped it up with her fingers and reached between his legs and started fingering herself.

Once again, the message was clear, even if she didn't speak a single word.

* * *

A few minutes later and their tongues tousled, lips clashing as Sona rode his cock for all it was worth. Her bikini bottom lay forlorn on the bed, along with with his G-Shock: Malcolm wanted to be fully nude, to let as much of his tanned skin to enjoy the softness of her pampered curves.

Her thighs smashed down onto his, sweat splattering with every downwards thrust. The band of gold around her thigh occasionally smashed with it, but neither party cared. In fact, all of Sona's jewelry remained on her person, twinkling and jingling along with every wild buck of her hips.

She had cum a few strokes in. She always did like being on top as much as she did like being dominated. And with a quality catch like Malcolm, having his meat stuff her and curve into the _perfect_ spot inside of her needy cunt was the stuff of dreams.

She came again, shivering against him, breasts matted against the sweaty curls of his chest. She mewled, tongue sloppily and lazily whipping about between his teeth. In her moment of vulnerability, Malcolm dipped down to her chest, found one of her nipples, and sucked. Eagerly, like a babe, he suckled her, his hands digging into her hips and _squeezing_ as his handling brought her to another climax.

Sona might have been thick and plump in figure, but Malcolm was a hard body; his weathered sinews of muscle manhandled her effortlessly. He demonstrated that now, as Sona kept cumming while his mouth licked and ravished and suckled her delectable chest, his arms dragging her up and down his cock, smashing her into him like his own personal blow-up doll.

Effortless as it was, the rough fucking took its toll on Malcolm, especially after he spiraled into another climax, spurting a fat load into her pussy, the creampie immediately dribbling back out as Sona's insatiable libido drove her to keep riding him through the entire peak.

He lay on the bed now, watching his own private Aphrodite continue to ride him, cummming and squirting over his prick, fingers digging into his chest. He was entranced with her breasts, dangling and swinging as her experienced hips repeatedly cycled his prick into her spunk-laden folds. Her twintails swung in tandem, and the sun hit the gold in her hairties in just the right way; she looked like something out of a myth, some sex-frenzied demigoddess intent on sucking him dry.

And he wouldn't have it any other way, even if she still didn't speak a single word.

* * *

It took two more creampies-loads just as hot and thick as the first one in that bathroom on the top floor-before Sona dismounted, semen pouring out from her like hot, gooey soft serve.

Those eyes again. An invisible leash, and Malcolm sat up, seeing where Sona would lead her this time.

She crawled on all fours, the gold on her thigh twinkling in a wink as enticing as the one in her eye. Then, she turned, giving him a full view of that leaking, dribbling snatch, thick dollops of hot white streaming down and forming a puddle between her legs. But Sona made it clear that wasn't what she wanted him to see.

Her fingers dug into the meat of her ass, and she spread it, revealing her puckered and bleached asshole.

In seconds Malcolm was upon her, hands greedily grabbing the soft flesh of her ass into tufts, _biting_ , leaving marks, slathering his tongue over the red arcs of his teeth that would eventually bruise. He teased her, dove his fingers into spunk pouch of her pussy, curled them, fingerblasted her while he kept adorning her ass with his hungry mouth, and he didn't stop until she came again, shuddering delicious shudders that echoed in small little waves through the expanse of her rump.

Then, finally, he spread those glorious cheeks apart, and feasted.

His tongue dug and curled as deep as it could between Sona's asscheeks, and when he was satisfied that he had deposited as much spit as he could, Malcolm dug out dollops of spunk and shoved that into her ass too, for good measure.

His cock pushed inside that forbidden pocket soon after.

Sona loved being fucked there as she did any other place. She would tighten up, milk Malcolm with every wanton thrust, and cum without his hands being anywhere near her swollen clit. It didn't take long in that choking, asphyxiating glove before Malcolm would follow.

Fortunately, the cum served as more lube, and he was hammering away again, plowing her into the bed, fucking her stupid with his thighs smashing into the cheeks that closed around his cock in white, fleshy globes.

But as much as she loved the stretching of her anus, she still didn't speak a single word.

Malcolm loved how she contrasted his body. How his weathered, tough, muscular frame pounded into her pampered, unblemished, plumpness like a fist spiraling into a pillow. But what he loved more was that Sona was _anything_ but delicate.

She wouldn't be moaning like a whore, her ass up in the air as he came thick hot ropes of baby batter all over her back if she was. She took all the punishment he gave her, and would cum triple the amount he did; splotches of wet stickiness that streaked all over the sheets of the bed were proof of this.

She was insatiable, and he rose up to the challenge with every waggle of those wide birthing hips. He only knew her name and occupation, but he would breed her.

And he would continue to breed her, even if she still didn't speak a single word.

* * *

He sheathed himself into her needy pussy once more, loving the texture of previous creampies clinging to her snatch's walls as he railed her again, pummeling into her, large hands smacking loudly against her ass while his thighs clapped as loudly as the jewelry that jingled on her wrists and ankles.

It was late afternoon by now, and the sun cast a nice sheen all over her sweaty, cum-stained back, illuminating all the bite marks from her shoulders to her ass, all the welts from his fingers, the very conspicuous hand prints. He marked her as his, even if she didn't even know his name.

He noticed one of her twintails sticking to her back, strands of it squirming around in the sheen of her sweat. How those hairties had stuck along this long was a miracle of itself, but as an idea struck him, Malcolm suddenly realized maybe the twintails had a purpose other than giving this minx the illusion of innocence.

He reached forward in the middle of his thrusting, and with both his hands, gripped _tight_ on both twintails from their base, and pulled. Sona nearly screamed, but the way her pussy tightened told Malcolm she fucking loved it. He wound her long hair around and around his hands, and he pulled harder, forcing Sona to arch her back, dollops of mixed semen and sweat racing down the new curve to splatter into Malcolm's crotch.

Finally, here, hours after she had first invited him into that public restroom, hours after dragging him into her suite, Sona spoke.

Or more accurately, _screamed._

" _Yes, oh_ _ **JESUS,**_ _fuck me...oh, Christ, cum inside me even more you fucking beast, more,_ _ **more!"**_

Sona prattled on, squealing, screaming, and Malcolm smiled to himself, happy that he finally broke her silent treatment. He continued in earnest, until his balls clenched.

He filled her womb with another load, and pulled hard again, all the way this time, until Sona's filthy back pressed tight against Malcolm's chest.

"Mmm…fuck, I'm not letting you go until your balls run _fucking_ dry." Sona said, panting.

Malcolm didn't respond. He wanted to hear the slut beg for more, and it was his turn to be quiet. He was so used to the quiet demure voice she had introduced herself with, and the high-pitched squeals of her sex-crazed moaning, that hearing her talk dirty with a voice that was as mature as her body yet as silky as her skin made him harder than ever.

Sona's hands latched onto his head then, eyes hazy, and she forced him to look at her, forced his mouth close to hers as they shared a moment of respite. Malcolm closed the distance, eager to clean out the filth between her cheeks.

Their tongues swirled, tasting nothing but sweat, traces of cum, sex.

And with her arms raised over her shoulders, Malcolm reached forward, cupped her breasts into his palms, and started to piston into her again, more cream cascading into the ever-growing pool below their legs,

By the time it was sunset, the sex grew slower, but didn't waver in intensity. Both of them were sticky and hot, completely nude sans the choker that stuck stubbornly to Sona's throat. The headboard of the bed banged in an incessant rhythm as Malcolm heaved, exhausted but still eager to dominate this slut until his legs would give out and his balls would spout out nothing but air.

Cum poured, thick white molasses, the mixture of uncountable creampies onto the pillows, staining the headboard while Malcolm sucked on her breasts, licking every bead of sweat she had.

In the hours of prolonged, nonstop fucking, Sona's jewelry had finally begun to be cast off. Several bracelets lay in various spots around the wet battleground, her gold armlet nestled on top of a pillow, no more anklets dangled on her leg, her hair frizzled and flowing free of her hairties.

It ended in lazy missionary, with Malcolm's hands cupping her cheeks while their tongues overlapped and tangled, slipshod, while Malcolm's cock pumped into her, scraping out copious wads of spunk.

He grunted, came inside of her for the last time, and withdrew, falling next to her on the bed, his arm around her. They took a minute to catch their breaths and reposition themselves, that arm around her now snaking down around her thigh, fingering her softly to earn mewls as he tried the best he could to redeposit his seed inside of her.

They made out, softly, savoringly, as the twilight began to settle in along with the aching of their muscles and the stickiness of their sweaty, sweaty skin.

Sona was the first to separate this time, cooing into his neck as she rested.

Malcolm smiled into her warm and wet scalp. She smelled as good as ever.

A few minutes of lazing then,

"My name's Malcolm, by the way. Malcolm Graves."

Sona giggled.

"Nice to meet you, Malcolm…" she said, the velvet of her voice almost making him hard again. She purred, pressing herself against him; she loved how his baritone vibrated into her skin, just as much as he loved how her words wisped hotly against his neck.

A short silence.

"How bout a drink? The bartender on the lookout lounge fixes up a spicy daquiri. My treat." Malcolm lowered his voice to a whisper. "And they've got a damn fine restroom there, too."

Sona giggled again, drawling circles on Malcolm's chest. She sighed, contentedly, thighs shifting around his hand.

"I'd like that."


End file.
